


I Must Down to the Seas Again

by havocthecat



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/F, Female Friendship, Femslash, POV Female Character, Pirates, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-01
Updated: 2011-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:14:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havocthecat/pseuds/havocthecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The <b>Abarat</b> had been trying to hole their ship, trying to sink <b>La Revanche</b> before it could come across their broadsides and grapple the <b>Abarat's</b> hull.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Must Down to the Seas Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is a total AU; in other words, the setting and the character histories, as well as some aspects of the characters' personalities, are all very different from what aired. Additional author's notes (including historical notes) are at the bottom of the fic. Fic was originally posted [here](http://havocs-cry.livejournal.com/47527.html) on LJ.

_I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,  
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,  
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,  
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking._

_I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide  
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;  
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,  
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying._

_I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,  
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;  
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover  
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over._  
\--Sea-Fever, by John Masefield

The air stank of gunpowder as gray smoke billowed across the sky, hiding the stars. They'd been chasing the other ship - the _Abarat_ \- for a full day and most of the night, exchanging cannon fire the whole time. The _Abarat_ had been trying to hole their ship, trying to sink _La Revanche_ before it could come across their broadsides and grapple the _Abarat's_ hull. _La Revanche_ had to be more careful than that.

Natalie tugged at her breeches. They clung more than the dresses she was used to, but salt spray had stiffened all her skirts and made them too heavy to walk in. She stood on the deck, the wind blowing wisps of her hair around her face. No matter how tight she braided it, her hair turned into a mass of curls.

 _Abarat's_ crew had fought, and well, to keep their ship and their cargo. Natalie's stomach turned, not at the rust and copper scent of blood in the air, but at the sight of her crew, turning over bodies and checking for injuries that were too severe. They marooned their uninjured prisoners or set them adrift, but the ones that couldn't be saved were dragged to the side, left for the more nocturnal members of the crew.

Her hand tightened on the grip of her sword. Janette was feeding from one of them, a man dressed in blue with a gut wound that Natalie could have healed once. Back when she'd had rooms of her own, where the floor hadn't pitched and shifted with every wave. In a place where women had came to her in the night, looking for the right mix of herbs to rid themselves of babies they couldn't bear safely, or when she'd set bones that had been broken in youthful accidents, not in tavern brawls.

Back before she'd become a pirate, and started sewing up lacerations from sword and knives. Before she'd started digging musket balls out of muscle tissue or treating rope burns after they'd gotten the ship through a storm.

Even if she could cure him, there was no guarantee he would be safe. One too many merchants saw a pirate ship crewed by nothing but women and thought they would be easy pickings. _La Revanche_ wasn't the most ruthless of pirate crews in the Caribbean, but they took care of their own.

Janette looked up, meeting Natalie's eyes as if she knew where Natalie had been standing, even though Natalie had been on the other side of the ship when the battle ended and they'd last seen each other. She stood, moving with a deadly grace that Natalie could never hope to match, and walked toward Natalie. Janette dabbed at the corner of her mouth, then licked the resulting drop of blood off her fingertips.

"Darling Natalie." Janette smiled, her eyes wild and gleeful. She looked less like the noblewoman that Natalie was convinced Janette had been, and every inch the captain of a ship like _La Revanche_. Janette reached over to Natalie, her fingers hovering over the scars on Natalie's neck, and Natalie shivered. "Still forgetting that you're a pirate now? That you're halfway into my world?"

"Rub it in, why don't you?" asked Natalie. Her mouth twisted into a frown. Being ship's doctor and something approximating captain during the daylight hours didn't come close to the medical practice she'd had. "Marian is taking charge of the healthy prisoners, and Alyssa is supervising the crew that's moving the _Abarat's_ cargo over. We're getting ready to careen her. I know it's a risk, but Grace needs to look her over before we can find out if she'll be a seaworthy ship for us."

"Of course," murmured Janette. "We'll need to change the ship's colors anyway. Have Cynthia make us another flag. She can spend some time in the crow's nest and learn how to navigate from Fleur. It will keep her occupied while she sews."

"I already have her pulling cloth out of our stores," said Natalie. "We'll be on the beach well before sunrise."

***

Port Royal was a haunt of smugglers and pirates, of slavers, thieves and criminals. Nicholas walked down the cobblestone pathway, ignoring the catcalls of whores and drunkards.

His sister had been bound for Martinique, to join her husband-to-be, when the ship she'd been traveling on had been set upon by pirates. Or there had been a mutiny. Or it sank in a storm. His little sister, his Fleur, had vanished. He'd been entrusted with her safety. He'd thought, when he had arranged her betrothal to a French sugar merchant, that he was giving her into safe hands.

Her betrothed had no idea what had happened. The man seemed not to care, or so Nicholas thought from the letters that he had received since Fleur's ship had not arrived at port.

It had taken years of investigation, of sending agents armed with De Brabant money to the New World, before he'd heard anything that gave him hope that Fleur had survived. With the first letter, he'd contacted the Royal Navy. With a substantial donation, Nicholas had been asked to join the crew as an independent officer.

The Brabant family had been given the honor of naming the ship. Nicholas had been on the _Crusader's Cross_ for five years and three trips. His nights were his own, when the crew was asleep, and his 'delicate health condition' precluded his being asked to do any work during the days. Animals stored in the hold provided all the blood that he needed, provided that he was judicious in his feeding.

Nicholas was close. There was a ship sailing the warm Caribbean seas that was crewed by women. The captain - no one was sure who she was - had a habit of picking up strays. If Fleur was anywhere to be found, it would be on that ship. He was certain of it. He'd gotten descriptions of some of the crew. They had been looking for a navigator, but stopped after a hurricane that had happened around the time Fleur had been lost.

Very few knew the stars like his little sister. He had indulged her when she was a girl, giving her books and letting her be schooled with a governess who had more schooling than most women were considered fit possess. If there was anyone whom Nicholas could spend eternity with, it would be his sister. He would never let her find out about the darkness inside him.

After he'd been brought across, it wasn't safe for her to be around him. Only a few short years had taught Nicholas that. He'd contracted her marriage to a French merchant who lived on Martinique to give her the travel she had always wanted. For some brief time, she at least, she would have sailed under the stars she loved.

The women who turned onto the wharf, away from the merchant district, weren't whores or tavern owners. They wore breeches. The only women Nicholas had ever encountered wearing breeches were sailors. The less legitimate women on board a ship were maritime equivalent to streetwalkers, but these two carried swords and pistols and moved like they knew how to use them.

The one on the right was dark-skinned with expressive brown eyes. Her nose was wide and her lips were full, and her long black hair was pulled back into a braid that fell down her back. She was a native of one of these New World lands. Nicholas had long since discarded the idea that the people here before Columbus were savages in need of a guiding hand. This woman was living proof of that. She stared down the street at Nicholas, looking through the surface, like she could see behind the human facade. Like she could see the monster inside of him.

The woman on the left was blonde, with pale skin and rosy cheeks that should have been burned to a nut brown long ago. As their steps brought them closer to Nicholas, he felt the vampire inside him rise up and take notice. Nicholas narrowed his eyes.

The blonde woman was a vampire. The woman next to her, with the dark, knowing eyes, maybe she was aware of her friend's nature. Maybe she wasn't.

They were female pirates, the gentler sex transformed into thieves and cutthroats. Nicholas would have to follow them, to see if he could find little Fleur and bring her home.

***

The ocean waves lapped at Fleur's bare feet. She laughed and dug her toes into the wet sand as she looked for a good spot. She could dive for conch while the sun set, after all. It was low in the sky, casting long shadows from the palm trees and the underbrush onto the beach.

They were on the east side of the island, all beach, clear to work and the best spot for Grace to supervise the crew. Scraping barnacles was hard, heavy work, shared in equal measure by them all, from cabin girl to captain. Grace would check for shipworm, taking her apprentice, Amy, along to teach her what to look for. They hadn't started boiling tar, mixing it with oakum to make the caulk. Best not to do that, Grace said, until they knew how many pieces of planking they would have to replace.

 _La Revanche_ had served them well, but it was old. Grace had told the crew that they were fighting a losing battle against barnacles and rot. Not to mention, careening the ship for repairs too often made them vulnerable to pirates they weren't allied with. Despite all that, she was as seaworthy as any ship run by men.

Here, on this island, wearing breeches and not worrying about her respectable betrothal, Fleur had never felt so free. He thought her dead in a storm at sea. They had to.

A woman approached, stepping out from beyond the trees and making her way across the sand to Fleur. She was bundled in a cloak, the hood pulled up. Her face was in shadows, but Fleur recognized her.

"Erica," she breathed, her smile widening. "Are you sure you should be out so soon?"

"It's almost nightfall," said Erica. She reached Fleur and they continued walking together, side by side, but without touching. Erica could not reach her hand out from the safety of her cloak, not until the sun was below the horizon and the last traces of daylight faded from the sky.

"The work will go much faster now that you, Alyssa and Janette are here to help scrape the hull," said Fleur. They had a crew of equals, though Janette often wrinkled her nose at the messier parts of a pirate's life. Fleur could not fault Janette for it; it was not something that Fleur enjoyed either.

"Then we can relax." Erica slanted a look over at Fleur. "We found a feral sow in the forest today. You'll eat well tonight."

"Did you eat well today?" asked Fleur, hiding her laughter behind one hand.

"As well as one can when one is forced to dine on pig's blood," said Erica, making a face.

The indignities you are forced to suffer," said Fleur, giving in to laughter. "You dine so poorly compared to those of us who feast so often upon Stafford cheese taken from the British Navy."

Farther down the beach, light sparked in the fire pit they'd dug at landfall. That would be where they would roast the pig. Lucy was their best cook; she had a dab hand with seasonings. After they'd taken the _Abarat_ , Marian and Alyssa had made a profit doing their trading in Port Royal. The humans on the crew would eat well tonight.

***

Natalie sat at the edge of the beach, a tin plate in her hand piled high with roasted chicken, and a tin cup filled with beer on the flat rock next to her. She faced away from the fire, the heat on her back as she stared out at the ocean. The low, black waves, capped with foam, lapped at the beach. She could stare at them for hours, lost in the majesty of the ocean.

Nights like this, when she was glad to be a pirate, happened more often than not. During the night, their ship's three vampires would leave the hold and join the rest of the crew. Janette would fly up the riggings as they chased down merchant vessels. Erica was often in the crow's nest, entertaining Fleur with stories of life on the stage, and Alyssa, she made sure that Cynthia had plenty to do.

Natalie wasn't in a dress, bound up with a corset and out of breath. She wasn't worried about being a woman and a doctor, whether it was going to get her arrested, or if she could be useful one more time. She was an unmarried woman who had grown up on the frontier and learned medicine. She was either useful or forgettable, depending on if there was a male doctor around or not.

The human-sized figure was a speck in the night sky. It was someone broad-shouldered who tried to hide among the clouds. Natalie would never have noticed if she hadn't looked up. Even with the full moon, it was hard to see anything when the sky was so close to a storm. She looked back at the ground, squinting at the firelight, and counted. All of the vampire crew of _La Revanche_ were on the ground.

Alyssa had just gotten back from Port Royal with Marian. They were unloading supplies, setting them out so that Erica could log them into her book. Fleur and Erica were ambling toward them, arm in arm and heading back from the beach and a few moments of precious leisure time.

Janette had stilled, Natalie didn't know when, and had been staring up at the sky. She dropped the knife she'd been using to scrape barnacles off the hull and shot like an arrow up to the stars.

"I hate when I don't know who's visiting," muttered Natalie, picking a piece of chicken up and shredding it with her fingers. She popped it into her mouth as she stared up into the sky, her mouth pursed and her forehead furrowed as she tried to see who Janette was circling.

"Do we make you uncomfortable?" asked Alyssa. She perched on a rock next to Natalie. "Even after so long on a crew with us?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Natalie, her mouth twisting into wry smile. "Vampires I don't know give me the heebie-jeebies. I like you just fine."

"I'd hoped that was the case." Alyssa glanced upward. Janette and the other vampire were descending to the ground. "I think we'll have company tonight."

Their guest might get the wrong impression about the mortal members of the crew. Sometimes they ran into other vampires, ones who thought the crew were dupes or enthralled somehow by the vampires' mental abilities. Most of the time, the crew of _La Revanche_ got through those visits without bloodshed. Once or twice, though, they lifted sail with piles of ash littering the beach, left for the tide to sweep into the ocean.

Janette dropped to the sand of the beach, landing with her feet in a dainty point. She had a background with money, Natalie was convinced of it. If she asked, though, Janette would just give her a toothy grin and confess to eating a dancing master or two in her time. It was what she always did.

The man floating down through the air behind Janette was blonde. He had an irrepressible curiosity in his lively blue eyes; he looked like he wanted to take in the whole world, to learn everything about it. Underneath all of that was a pain that Natalie had wanted to heal the first time she saw him. Before that man had made her lose everything.

Natalie shoved her plate at Alyssa and bolted to her feet, ignoring Alyssa's fumbles as she tried to keep the plate from falling to the ground. "You!"

"Natalie?" Janette touched down on the ground, then bent down and pulled the slippers off her feet before sand could get into them. "What is wrong?"

"What is _he_ doing here?" She stalked over to Janette, ignoring Nicholas, who looked shocked, and the rest of the crew, who were drifting toward them. "Janette, he ruined my life!"

***

Five years ago, Natalie was in Bridgetown, on the island of Barbados, living above a tavern with large, open windows and a cool breeze that was a necessity for someone who'd moved from the northern wilds of New France. She had a fan made of paper and glued to sticks of polished wood, kept it nearby to use when the heat was too much and her clothes stuck to her in the damp.

It was a world away from her brother and his family, but it was a world she'd carved for herself. She got letters from Richard, and she sent letters to him. They took half a year to get to her, if the ships bringing them out didn't sink or weren't captured by pirates.

Her descriptions of Barbados were fascinating, with long, weaving passages about the loveliness of the oceans, or the lush greenery that could be found alongside beaches of pure white sand. She talked about the people, quite often, and the food that could be found. Natalie never wrote a word, of course, about the work she did.

She was able to help people here, and in a way she couldn't when she lived with her brother and his wife. "Be presentable, Natalie." "Don't be so forward with the gentlemen callers, you'll drive them away." "Don't speak Russian, Natalie, do you want them to think we don't belong?" "Don't you want to be married, Natalie?" "We must sell the copies of Father's anatomy textbooks, Natalie. They are of no use to us." "A baby will settle a woman like you down."

So Natalie had uprooted herself, moving to Bridgetown and telling her family - in a letter that arrived when she was well away - that she had married a kind merchant who was sending for her so he could indulge her every whim. The fact that Natalie would have nothing to do with merchants, not after seeing what happened to the slaves under their care, was something she wouldn't breathe a word of to Richard.

She'd never married. She didn't even have a beau courting her. In Bridgetown, Natalie had learned English and Spanish, to go along with the other languages she knew. She worked as a doctor, and did more than a midwife's work of delivering babies. She let blood and set bones. She washed the dead and prepared them for burial when they had no family to claim them. She performed surgeries, amputations even, and then cared for the ill until they could leave their bed. She practiced everything she'd learned at her father's feet.

Tonight was set aside for an examination of one of the unclaimed dead. One of the British, newly arrived on a naval ship, had tried to break up a fight in an alley, and had gotten knifed in the back for his troubles. No one broke up a fight started by the _Fancy's_ crew. Everyone who lived here knew how they'd treated the crew on the _Ganj-iSawai_ after they'd taken it.

Every ship that had been part of that fight had earned a great deal of treasure, and it only made them more brash. No one knew his name, but he'd saved a couple of women working the docks. They and their children were grateful, but gratitude didn't help a dead man. He'd been an idiot, and greener than the newest midshipman, Natalie was sure.

She set aside the quill she was writing with and glanced over. The body was laid out on her examining table, covered in a piece of coarse sailcloth Natalie had picked up for a few pennies, and which was soaked in blood that was impossible to scrub off. It would be impossible to put the job off any longer; she'd sent one of the dock children around to the church with a message to come and take the body for burial around midnight.

Judging by the moon, she had just enough time. Natalie pulled the sailcloth back and let it fall below his waist. He looked peaceful. Like he was sleeping, though the knife in his kidney and the blood on his waistcoat told another story. He was rolled onto his side; a second knife was in his back, low at the base of his spine.

She rolled her sleeves up, baring her forearms up past the elbow, and braced herself. One hand on the table, one hand wrapped around the knife, and then Natalie pulled. The knife was stuck on the bone in his spine. Natalie had to jerk the blade back and forth as she tried to move it out inch by agonizing inch.

With one final jerk, she yanked the blade out, leaving a jagged hole in the man's skin. Natalie was covered in a sheen of sweat; she wiped her forehead with her rolled-up sleeve. "Hard part's done," she said to herself, letting him fall forward. She tossed the knife into a bowl, wincing as the metal clattering against the porcelain and blood smeared the white surface.

Natalie started rifling through the man's jacket. If she could find papers with his name and his family's home, she could send a letter to them. She could at least let some poor woman know where her husband or her son was buried. It might be a comfort to know he'd died saving others.

When she reached his breeches, Natalie pulled on the haft of the second knife. This came out without effort, in one smooth motion. Blood gushed from the wound.

Natalie stepped back, her grip tightening on the knife. This man was dead, or so she'd been told. There was one tiny little problem with that. Dead bodies didn't bleed.

"What are you?" asked Natalie. Her voice only had a hint of tremor to it. She sounded brave, like she had to be.

Nana told her to be brave. Nana had pushed her and Richard into tiny hidden spaces when the soldiers came, before they fled Russia,and the last time, near the docks, Nana hadn't been there after the soldiers left. Natalie had to be the brave one, ever since then.

He didn't answer. He didn't move. Natalie took one step closer, then another, and a third, until she was right behind him, whoever he was.

Natalie's breath caught in her throat. _What_ ever he was. The hole in his back where the knife had been, it was gone. Even if he'd been able to heal so fast, there should have been a scar, angry and purple. There was nothing but smooth, pale skin.

"Stop pretending," said Natalie. Her voice was stronger now. Still hoarse, but she had it under control. She had to be strong. "Nothing human could do that. _What are you?_ "

His hand twitched. He turned onto his back, then pushed himself upright. His head snapped up and he stared at Natalie, his eyes a golden-green, like a cat's. Even without the candle's light, his eyes would glow. His teeth-- He had fangs, like a cat, and he snarled at her. The stray Natalie had adopted would never dream of looking at her like he wanted to eat her.

His hair was a gleaming blonde, and his skin was pale. Natalie had thought his skin was corpse pale before, when she'd thought he was dead. She didn't know what to call the shade of his skin now that he was moving. She didn't know what to call _him_.

"What are you?" asked Natalie. She held her ground, even with the voice in her head shrieking at her to run and hide. She had her suspicions, from Nana's old stories of Russia, the ones her mother and father had wanted her to forget. Natalie didn't want to forget. She wanted to _know_.

"A vampire." He met Natalie's gaze, his eyes full of loathing. "A damned creature."

"No." Natalie swallowed and shook her head. Not him. "Someone damned would never intervene to save two women. Not from sailors like that."

What was she thinking? Was she _arguing_ with someone who could kill her without a second thought? He wouldn't, though. Natalie had to believe that. She had to have faith and hold strong to the idea that this man, whoever he was, would listen to whatever good he had inside of him and not hurt her.

Besides, if all else failed, at least she still had her knife.

"You have a faith in me that few others would," said the man. He pulled himself upright and walked over to Natalie's cloak, hanging on a hook behind the door. "Thank you for the loan of your cloak, and for your timely assistance. The knife had lodged in my back, and I could not move my legs until you removed it."

"Please, wait," said Natalie. She stepped toward him. She had to keep him from leaving until he had learned more about him. "You seem so sad. Let me help you."

"There is nothing that can help me," said the man. The despair in his voice touched her. "No one can."

"There's always hope," said Natalie. She let her arm drop to her side. "At least let me try."

He stepped closer. In a blink, his eyes had become a clear, brilliant blue, and his teeth were normal, the same blunted canines Natalie would find in any person's mouth. "What do you mean?"

"You look like you could use a hand," said Natalie, breathing a soft sigh of relief. Her shoulders relaxed and she managed a smile. She didn't know what he needed, but Natalie knew she could be there for him. "My name is Natalie Lambert."

"You shouldn't try to befriend me," he said, grimacing.

"I get the idea it's been a while since you've had a friend," said Natalie. She walked over to the washbasin, all the way on the other end of the room. They were covered in dried, tacky blood from when she'd searched the man's clothes. "So what's your name, stranger?"

Whatever he was, whoever he was, he'd saved two women and then woken up alone and friendless on her examining table. It would be wrong to turn him out into the night without trying to help him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He was behind her, but how? She hadn't heard any footsteps, and he'd been across the room from her. "I'm too hungry. I can't stop myself."

He jerked her head back, yanking at her hair and then he struck, burying his teeth in her neck.

Natalie gasped, but he clapped his hand over her mouth, trying to keep her silent, while his other hand was wrapped around her. It was almost an embrace, but he was strong. _Too_ strong, she couldn't struggle.

Her arms were trapped and Natalie's strength was draining from her. Was he drinking her blood? Her _blood_? Nana's stories had all been true.

Natalie pulled her arm free while the man - the vampire - worried at her neck. She still held the knife she'd pulled out of his side, and she twisted just enough to tear his teeth from her neck. He looked inhuman again, with green-gold eyes.

If he'd attacked again, Natalie would never have been able to stop him. If he hadn't paused, if he hadn't looked at her, full of self-loathing and recriminations, before reaching for her again, then Natalie would never have been able to stab him in the eye.

He'd howled in pain and fled out the window, one hand covering his eyes. Natalie had passed out, falling to the ground in a dead faint. When she'd awakened a week later, with memories of a wasteland and being surrounded by whispers, her skin blistered underneath the sun. She'd been changed, touched by evil, they'd said, and Natalie'd had to flee Bridgetown. She'd had to leave Barbados and everything she'd built there, had to run until Janette had found her. Janette had been waiting for her, though neither of them knew why or how she'd known that Natalie would be running.

Natalie had earned her place on _La Revanche_ , but she'd never forgotten what she used to be. She'd never forgotten the man who had taken it all away from her.

***

"Nicolas?" asked Janette, her eyes widening before she got control of her expression. "Natalie, you say that _Nicolas_ is the vampire that nearly killed you?"

Natalie didn't need to touch the ridge of scar tissue on her neck. Nicholas was staring at it, horror in his eyes.

She used to wear high necklines to cover it, but what was the point on a pirate ship that counted a handful of vampires among its crew? It was too hot when working on the ship to wear a chemise that covered her from neck to ankles, along with all the other clothing that went over it, and besides, what if she went overboard?

"I'm sorry, I-- I never meant to hurt you." Nicholas turned away. "I'm looking for someone, Janette."

"Not Natalie or myself?" asked Janette, archly. She trailed her fingers down Natalie's back. "Here I thought you had come to catch up on old times. Or perhaps to do the right thing by your almost protege?"

"I don't want anything to do with him," said Natalie, her spine ramrod straight and her voice strained. "I'm sorry, Janette, I know he's a friend of yours."

"You see what your thoughtlessness has led to, Nicolas?" asked Janette. She gave him a stern look, one Nicholas didn't see until she put two fingers under his chin and turned his head so that he looked at her. "Now, _mon cher_ , tell me why you are here. Then you can can be on your way, and Natalie and I can finish taking care of our ship."

"You're _pirates_?" asked Nicholas, his gaze flickering between Janette and Natalie. "Both of you?"

"There's not much call for doctors who have been attacked by dead men," said Natalie. She crossed her arms and lifted her chin as she met Nicholas' eyes. "Especially not doctors who wake up just as a funeral mass is being said."

"You never told me that," said Janette, sounding curious. "Oh, Natalie, you and I have a great deal to talk about later."

"I'm looking for my sister," said Nicholas. He stepped away from Janette. "She vanished on a voyage to Martinique. She was traveling to her betrothed's plantation."

"My betrothed, Nicholas?" Fleur stepped out in front of Grace, who was at the forefront of the crew. Erica stepped out alongside Fleur, her arm around Fleur's waist. "My betrothed is a slave trader and a pirate himself! How could you?"

"It seems your mortal sister is among the crew as well, Nicolas," said Janette, chuckling. Her eyes gleamed with gleeful enjoyment at his discomfort. "What a coincidence. It's almost as if it was deliberate. I cannot imagine who would do something like that, could you?"

"Fleur--" began Nicholas.

"No, Nicholas," said Fleur. She looked over at Erica, who smiled and gave an encouraging nod. "I read the correspondence between you and my former betrothed. I learned more about the slave trade when the sailors spoke around me without watching their tongues, presuming that I could not understand what they said. You betrothed me to Lucas Cross, but he is known to sailors as Lucien Lacroix, who captains the _Imperator_. How could you think I would condone such a thing?"

Some of the few writings they had space for on _La Revanche_ were Quaker tracts that had been packed along with Fleur's astronomy texts.

"You were betrothed to Lacroix?" asked Nicholas, giving Janette a confused look. "I had no idea--"

"You cannot help yourself, can you, Nicolas?" asked Janette. "If you do you not fall into Lacroix's clutches yourself, must you send your sister headlong into them?"

"Instead you bring her onto a pirate crew?" asked Nicholas. It was the first spark of anger - of something other than self-loathing - that Natalie had seen in him. "How could you?"

"This isn't a world that's kind to unmarried women traveling alone," said Natalie. "We band together to keep each other safe."

"Let me take you home, Fleur," said Nicholas. He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Let me keep you safe."

Nicholas didn't look at Erica, but Natalie saw the way her eyes flared with anger.

"We keep our own safe here," snapped Grace. She was an escaped slave, a woman who had found her way to Barbados after escaping out of the hold of a slave ship that had stopped for provisions. "We don't need you to take Fleur away from us to keep her safe."

"That will only put her at further risk," said Erica. She inched closer to Fleur, though there wasn't much closer to get. "Nicholas, you and I have known each other for a very long time. Do you think that Janette or I would let any harm come to her?"

"The Enforcers--" started Nicholas.

"The Enforcers don't sail on the high seas, Nicholas," said Janette. She glanced over at Natalie, who frowned at her. They'd talked about this, about how careful they were to avoid notice.

"It's not the Enforcers that I worry about, Nicholas," said Fleur. She nodded at _La Revanche_. "I have letters from my former betrothed. Even though we did not marry, he considers me to be his property. Bringing me home will tell him exactly where to find me."

"We can protect her," said Natalie. Nicholas wanted to do something, anything to protect Fleur. He wanted to take her away from the world they'd built for themelves, but it wouldn't help. "Better than you can. Our crew can control their hunger."

After what Nicholas had done to her, anyone on the crew could protect Fleur better. He may have meant to keep her safe, but, in practice, he didn't have such a good record of it.

"We can hide her from Lacroix. We've hidden ourselves from the Enforcers." Janette's voice was soothing as she lay one hand on Nicholas' arm. "You need to trust that we can take care of our own."

"We'll have to work through the night and leave at dawn," said Janette. She glanced up at the sky, gauging the moon. "Lacroix will have followed you, Nicolas."

Natalie had heard of _The Imperator_. Everyone had. Lucien Lacroix was one of the more ruthless slavers, and the fatality rates on his journeys were high. Rumor had it he'd turned to piracy just to recoup his losses on his last journey.

"He's a vampire, isn't he?" asked Natalie. If he were a vampire, that would explain the fatality rates.

"Not just any vampire," said Janette. Natalie couldn't read the look in her eyes. It was a switch. Most of the time, she understood how Janette was feeling. She knew what Janette wanted without her having to say a word. "Natalie, _mon cher_ , Lacroix is the vampire that brought both Nicolas and myself across."

"I'm getting the ship finished up," said Grace. She gave Nicholas a murderous look. "Call me if this one needs another talking to. "

No one crossed Grace. She was their carpenter; they needed her, or they wouldn't have a ship. Nicholas may have realized that, or he might not. Grace was the one with the boiling pitch, though, and it was hard to miss that.

"We need to check our supplies," said Natalie. She'd heard about Lacroix, though not by name. Janette sometimes woke up midday with nightmares. "We need to get out of here, and we need to make sure we can cover our tracks."

"It's time for you to go, Nicolas" said Janette. "There's plenty of time until sunrise. You can make it to the nearest island. There are caves inland, or you can find shelter in the undergrowth."

"Are you certain, Fleur?" asked Nicholas, turning to her. "Mother has written letters asking about you."

"Do you remember, Nicholas, how I always used to watch the stars when I was a little girl?" asked Fleur. She glanced up at the sky. "Mother and Father indulged me and found me books that charted the stars. Now I help _La Revanche_ navigate through the oceans, and all because of the stars I love so well."

"Surely there are others who could read the stars as well as you," said Nicholas.

"How many women learned to read the stars as children?" asked Fleur. She shook her head. "Nicholas, I cannot abandon them."

"You _must_ come with me.' Nicholas' voice took on a deep timbre. It resonated in the air around him. "You must come home."

Fleur shook her head. Natalie thought, at first, that she was saying no, but Fleur's eyes were unfocused. She took a step toward Nicholas, moving forward until Erica grabbed Fleur's arm and yanked her back.

"Fleur has made her choice," said Erica. She glared at Nicholas. "Your sister does not belong to you. Not here, and not while she crews with _La Revanche_. We will not let you take her."

"Erica will bring me across before I let you take me," said Fleur. The look she gave Nicholas was imperious, like the few _boyars_ she'd seen from a distance in Russia. They were nobles, Fleur and Nicholas? Fleur didn't act like nobility, though it explained how she hadn't known how to do anything when she'd first come on board.

"You've decided, then?" asked Erica. She glanced at Fleur, surprised. "I wasn't certain."

"I want you to," said Fleur. She ignored Nicholas and his gaping mouth and turned to Erica. "Not yet, not unless we have to, but soon."

"You belong with your family, Fleur," said Nicholas. He looked to Janette. "She doesn't belong here, not as part of this life. If we just explain to Lacroix--"

Janette cut him off with a soft, derisive laugh. "Do you think Lacroix will listen to reason? To you? He made you, Nicolas. He owns you, and now he wants to possess your little sister as well."

"We, on the other hand, are an abolitionist crew, and Fleur's her own woman," said Natalie dryly. There was profit in slave-trading, yes, but Natalie's crew had at least half a set of principles left. Even as a pirate crew. " _The Imperator_ runs the triangle trade."

Slaves to work the fields. Sugar cane grown in the fields. Rum and molasses made from the sugar. The cost in lives was high, but never higher than when _Imperator_ had a full hold of slaves.

"You're young, Nicolas," said Janette. She lay one hand on his arm. "You'll learn, in time, that we cannot choose for others and hope for the best outcome. Go home. Fleur has made her choice."

He'd already ruined more than one life. Life on board _La Revanche_ , or any pirate ship, was hard, with all the navies and merchant ships in the world after them. Still, if Fleur had asked Erica to bring her across, then she'd be all right. Vampires could fly away from a battle gone wrong, unless it happened during the day. Even if they sank with the ship, they could swim to the surface after sunset and fly away then.

Natalie had thought about asking Janette to bring her across, she couldn't deny that. According to Janette, Natalie had been halfway there since she'd been attacked. The idea was alluring, maybe too much so.

"Please," said Nicholas. His voice broke. "I've been worried. I thought you were dead."

"I am fine," said Fleur. Her voice was soothing; she sounded well-practiced. Nicholas must have worried often when they were children. "I will continue to be fine."

"You already drove her away from everything she's known because you betrothed her to the wrong man," said Natalie. Nicholas' shocked expression didn't faze her. "Go. We know how to deal with vampires. If you're not gone by the time the moon reaches its height, we'll show you what we've learned."

"Oh, Nicolas, are they not wonderful?" asked Janette, laughing. Of course she'd be delighted with Natalie's threats; Janette was the fiercest of the entire crew. "You'd best be off. I'm afraid I'd have to help dearest Natalie carry out her threat."

"You wouldn't," said Nick.

"Try me," said Janette, biting off each word. Her eyes flickered up to the sky. "Best fly away, Nicolas. I have many an idea on how best to make sure you listen next time."

Nicholas' mouth gaped open. Natalie looked at the sky, making a point of finding the moon.

Nicholas took off, rising up into the sky until he was nothing more than a speck amidst the darkness.

"Well, now," said Janette, dusting her hands off even though they were clean. "That is that, at least, until we run into Nicolas again. It will likely not happen for another hundred years."

In a hundred years, most of the crew would be dead. They wouldn't be pirates, because no pirate crew lasted a hundred years. Hell, no pirate crew had managed to last ten years. Even _Fancy_ might not make it that long.

Two steps away, Erica had her arms around Fleur and was whispering reassurances to her that no one else could hear. Fleur's head leaned on Erica's shoulder and she was taking a deep, shaky breath.

"You never told me which vampire attacked you, dearest Natalie," said Janette.

"I never knew his name." Natalie crossed her arms. Her shoulders were hunched and her head was starting to throb. "I never thought I'd see him again."

"The world of vampires is very small." Janette had a gleam in her eyes. "If you let me bring you all the way across, you and Nicolas would be on equal footing. He is very young."

"If his sister is alive, he can't be much older than me." Natalie cleared her throat. "I'm not like Fleur. I don't know that's what I want."

"We have a little bit of time," said Janette. She blinked, and her eyes flashed golden-green.

Natalie had seen too much since she'd left Bridgeport. She was used to vampires and their predatory look. She quirked her lips into a twisted smile. "Good. I could use it."

"One stray musket ball, and the choice may be made for you," said Janette. Her eyes faded. "Do not let that happen, Natalie."

"I'll let you know." Natalie grinned. "As soon as I have it figured out."

\--end--

**Author's Note:**

> This particular AU is set in the Caribbean, shortly before the golden age of piracy, and after the time that [Henry](http://www.thewayofthepirates.com/famous-pirates/henry-every.php) [Every](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Every) and his pirate fleet took the [Ganj-i-Sawai](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ganj-i-Sawai), which was basically the baddest ass pirate haul _ever_.
> 
> There have been plenty of [women pirates](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Women_in_piracy) [throughout history](http://www.elizabethan-era.org.uk/famous-women-pirates.htm), not just Anne Bonney and Mary Read (arguably two of the most well known, at least in my experience). I took the idea one step further, and created a pirate ship crewed entirely by women.
> 
> The story is somewhat ahistorical, because I wanted to make sure that Captain Cohen still got to be in charge. I understand the need for historical accuracy, but, when balanced against my fic preferences (i.e., women in charge, women in the major roles of the fiction, and women taking care of themselves), I took a few liberties with it.
> 
> Here's a portion of the background for other characters that didn't make it into the story:
> 
> _The Imperator_
> 
> LaCroix is captain of the Imperator,a slave trading vessel that makes the triangle run. (I'll look up the right term for that later.) His first mate is Francesca, a French woman. When LaCroix takes a ship, he typically slaughters the crew. Rumor has it that Francesca escaped the slaughter by being as bloodthirsty as her captain.The entire ship, except for Francesca, is under LaCroix's mental control, and he has a higher than usual slave mortality rate. He claims that no one cares, because they're slaves. It's said that LaCroix drives his ship like the devil himself is after them. The truth is, it's not the devil that's after him. It's his daughter. She's far worse.
> 
> _The Crusader's Cross_
> 
> While Nicholas de Brabant was given the honor of naming this English military vessel, he is not the captain of the ship. His family sponsored the ship on an expedition to search for his little sister, Fleur, who was lost at sea on her way to an arranged marriage with an Italian merchant (yes, that's right, him) in the East Indies some years ago. They suspect she was taken by pirates.
> 
> Amanda Cohen is the captain. She is a strict officer in the Royal Navy, but the sailors on her ship love her unreservedly.  
> Nicholas de Brabant is the special consultant on the ship. He claims a peculiar allergy to sunlight and wears the most ridiculous clothes for the climate in order to keep his skin covered, but he's good in a fight. His mysterious past will come back to haunt them, of course.
> 
> Donald Schanke is the ship's cook. He's widely regarded as the best cook in the Royal Navy, and Cohen keeps him around despite his wildly lax attitude to naval discipline.
> 
> Stonetree is the ship's navigator. He can tell stories about every constellation.
> 
> Reese is the first mate. He's an old salt and the most experienced sailor on the ship, outside of Captain Cohen.
> 
> Norma is the quartermaster. Heaven forbid you ruin her sense of order.
> 
> Jenny Schanke is the cabin girl. She ran away to join her father at sea, and Cohen thought that Jenny should at least work for her keep until they can get back to England to deposit her with Myra, who runs a successful seamstress' shop and needs her daughter's skilled assistance.
> 
> _El Conquistador_
> 
> Javier Vachon is the captain of El Conquistador, and probably Sir Not Appearing In This Fanfiction. He was a stowaway on a merchant ship bound (back) to Spain when it was taken by pirates. Since they were going to hole the ship anyway, he and Screed decided it would be better to take over.
> 
> His first mate is Urs, whom they met when they'd landed in port at New Orleans.
> 
> Their carpenter is Bourbon, who thought it would be more fun than legitimate work.
> 
> Their quartermaster is Tracy Vetter, who was shot by pirates and left for dead by the crew of the Crusader's Cross. (They really did think she was dead.) Vachon saw her when she was almost dead, and brought her across.
> 
> Basically, the crew knows that their power structure consists of vampires, but they don't care. It helps them more often than not.


End file.
